


Timeless Love

by Not_So_Mundane_After_All_97



Category: Titans (TV 2018)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Daughter Relationship, Platonic Relationships, Platonic Soulmates, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:41:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26449471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_So_Mundane_After_All_97/pseuds/Not_So_Mundane_After_All_97
Summary: Do you think the universe fights for souls to be together? Some things are too strange and strong to be coincidences.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Rachel Roth, Dick Grayson & Raven
Comments: 18
Kudos: 58





	1. PROLOGUE

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to chapter 1 - or should I say Prologue - of my next multi chapter story. It's nothing long this time, just a few short chapters. I got carried away on my last few works so I decided to tone it down a bit.  
> I'll add more tags as I go, because I don't want to spoil anything, but the prologue itself is very telling.
> 
> So... Enjoy!

A young man enters a small, dimly lit room. He's tall, muscular, handsome. Confident but not in a threatening manner. His side-swept dark brown hair falls slightly over his forehead. Deep chocolate eyes are warm and friendly, and his smile is gentle, polite but with a hint of playfulness. The whole thing makes his face seem trustworthy.

He's relaxed - his black tie is hanging loose and his sleeve cuffs are rolled up to his elbows. He speaks calmly and downright affectionately, and his voice is low and soft.

However, the gold detective's badge shining at his hip, right next to a gun holster, makes it clear that he is serious about his job as he slowly walks over to the table and falls into his chair.

Sitting across from him there's a girl. A child, in fact, no more than thirteen. Her hands are clasped together on the table, she tries to hide the trembling of her fingers. Her chin-length black hair is weaved with blue highlights, as if in an act of rebellion. Pale cheeks are marked with trails of smudged mascara. And though her gaze is filled with pain and fatigue, her sharp blue eyes are focused on her companion, carefully watching his every move.

And as these two strangers sit opposite each other in a random interrogation room, trying to figure each other out, their souls sing with joy at the sight of one another. Overwhelmed by indescribable happiness, interwoven with longing, melancholy and pain. They long to each other, desperately reaching their hands out so they can merge into one.

They can't, however - not yet at least. First, they need to be patient and let the events take their own course. It wasn't always easy and neither it is this time. But they both know well that although their story starts differently each time, it always has the same ending.


	2. ANCIENT EGYPT - OLD KINGDOM PERIOD, MEMPHIS, YEAR 2610 B.C.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to chapter 2! Time to unfold a little bit of this mistery! Have you ever heard of reincarnation? Do you know about the concept of two parts of one soul searching for and finding each other in countless lives they've had?  
> This is what inspired me to write this thing. I'm not sure how else I should explain it to you and I don't want to spoil anything, so I'm gonna let the story explain it by itself.  
> Enjoy!

### ANCIENT EGYPT - OLD KINGDOM PERIOD, MEMPHIS, YEAR 2610 B.C.

* * *

The day was extremely hot, but that didn't stop the traders from filling up every empty patch of every street surrounding the divine palace. There were so many goods around that it was hard to know where to look. From spices and fresh fruits from the farthest corners of the kingdom, to ceramics, jewelry and elegant fabrics worthy of kings and queens. The space was filled with the sounds of instruments and the screams of merchants haggling over prices, smell of all kinds of dishes hanging in the air.

At one of the stalls stood a young man dressed in ornate robes of white linen and green silk. His long, curly, chestnut-colored hair fell over his forehead, and his chocolate brown eyes were stuck on a beautiful red dress adorned with colorful jewels shimmering in the sun. The dealer praised the quality of the fabric, but the man only thought about what a wonderful birthday present for his wife it would be.

Until over a year ago, the only way he could get something so expensive would be to steal. But one accidental adventure that started a friendship with Horus himself turned their fate upside down. Now, as King's Chief Advisor, he no longer had to worry about surviving another day.

But just because his life had changed didn't mean his old instincts were gone. So he had no problem sensing a hand reaching for his purse of coins. In one agile movement he grabbed the thief's wrist and immobilized it.

Then their eyes met.

It was a child. A little girl with raven-black hair hidden under the hood of a linen cloak, skin as pale as papyrus, and eyes blue as the sky and deep as the ocean. She was dressed in dirty and tattered rags, so skinny that he could use his fingers to count the bones of her wrist that he held in his hand. And she was terrified, like an antelope trapped in a snare.

This child had no bad intentions - the girl was stealing to survive, just like he had a year ago.

His heart skipped a beat and his face softened as he slowly released his grip on her hand.

"There she is!" a shout came from down the alley. Four armed guards broke through the crowd. "Get her!"

The girl let out a gasp and used the moment of his inattention to tear her hand out of his grip and run away. The only thing he managed to notice was a flash of a small red crystal placed in the center of her forehead.

"Hey! Hey, wait!" he called after her, but in vain, for she had already managed to blend in with the crowd. Group of guards was on her heels, knocking over the stalls and shoving people to the sides.

He looked around. He knew this city like the back of his own hand - every building, every turn and dead end. He couldn't count the number of times he was the target of these bloodthirsty idiots himself. And each time he managed to escape from them in the same way - the roofs.

Forgetting about the dress he was supposed to buy, he ran off and found the fastest way to the roof of the nearest building. He ran as fast as he could and after a while he noticed her awkwardly trying to get through the crowd. The hood fell from her head revealing a wave of dark hair. Someone pushed her and she fell onto the hard pavement. Nobody paid any attention to her. Nobody but him and those damned guards.

Dear Gods, how was he supposed to get to her before them?

Then, about five buildings ahead of him, he noticed a side alley. Small and cramped shortcut, barely visible from the main street. There was no other way, the girl would certainly run in that direction.

That was his chance.

As soon as he was sure she was on her feet again, he started moving and in a matter of seconds he jumped between the buildings. He peered cautiously around the corner - indeed, she was heading straight towards him. But her footsteps were getting slower, she was panting and wobbling as the guards grew closer. He didn't hesitate even for a second and when she was close enough, he grabbed her arm, covering her mouth with the other hand, and dragged her deeper into the alley.

The girl struggled and squealed as she tried to break free from his grip, but she was so weak it was useless.

"Shhh, be quiet!" he hissed in her ear, pressing his back against the wall. "They will hear you." 

As the voices of the guards reached them, she paused and pressed herself against his chest. But the men ran on, completely ignoring the shaded alley.

The girl tried to pull away again but he stopped her, grabbing her shoulders and turning her to face him.

"Hey, it's okay." he said, but she didn't listen to him. Panic seized her, tears streamed down her cheeks and she had only one thought in her mind - to run away.

A pang of pain pierced his heart when he understood why. She was a young girl who lived alone on the streets for Gods know how long, maybe all her life. She must have suffered a lot at the hands of men in that time. Probably more than once she was forced into side alleys, which could have ended for her much worse than meeting the guards.

"Hey shh, don't cry." He whispered softly, the tenderness in his own voice surprised him. "Please, look at me."

He slowly released her arms and brought his hands to her cheeks, cupping her face. The girl froze in terror, but when their eyes met, he felt her slightly relaxing.

"Don't be afraid, I won't hurt you."

Another tear ran down her cheek and he wiped it away with his thumb as if instinctively.

"You won't hand me over to the king? I tried to rob you." she sobbed softly, and the sound broke his heart. She was so scared.

"No, I won't." he confirmed. "And I won't let anyone else do it either."

She couldn't believe his honesty, he could see it in her eyes. But he was telling the truth. He didn't know why, but he intended to protect this little girl at all costs.

"Why?"

"Let's just say…" he said and raised his hand up to show her the apple he surreptitiously took out from the bag hidden under her cloak. "I have some experience in this profession as well."

The sight of her smile made him feel so relieved that he almost fell to his knees. Instead, he smiled back and returned the fruit. Then the girl surprised him even more - taking a step forward she threw herself into his arms. If he hadn't had a wall behind him, he would probably have fallen on the ground. She curled up against his chest with her face pressed to his neck and a sob came out of her lips.

"Thank you." she cried.

Something suddenly happened in his heart that he couldn't quite understand. He hugged her, lightly and awkwardly at first, but moments later he tightened his grip and pulled her closer, cradling her head in his hand.

"Shh, it's okay." he whispered before he could stop himself. "You're safe now."

It was stronger than him. He was holding this crying child in his arms not knowing what to do, and at the same time he knew it perfectly well. It was an instinct, something that was deep inside him and only now revealed itself.

He and Zaya had been trying for a baby for a year now, but to no avail. His wife spent many nights crying in fear of never becoming a mother and praying to the Gods for any sign that her nightmare won't become true.

Maybe this girl was their answer? Perhaps that was what Horus meant when he told them that all would come in its own time.

Whatever that meant, he was sure of one thing - he would never let this child go back on the streets again.

He leaned away a little and brushed the hair off her forehead.

"Better?"

"Yes." she gasped, her voice sounding hoarse. Then he noticed how chapped and dry her lips were. He quickly reached for the water flask tied to his belt.

"Here."

She carefully took one sip, closing her eyes in relief, then tried to hand him the bottle back, but he stopped her.

"No, drink." he told her, smiling. "You need it more than I do."

The girl nodded and put the bottle back to her mouth, drinking quickly and greedily. Few drops ran down her chin.

When she was done, she corked the flask and gave it back to him.

"Thank you, um…"

"Bek." he introduced himself. "And you are…?"

"Rashida."

"All right, Rashida." he said with a smile and put his arm around her once more. "Will you come with me? You must be hungry."

In response her stomach growled louder than a roaring lion, and they both laughed quietly.

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere safe. You'll see."

A shadow of fear covered her eyes and she looked down, hesitating. Then he realized his mistake - she must have heard these words many times before and it never ended well for her. It made her cautious.

"I want to take you to my home." he added, completely sincere. "My wife is preparing dinner. It's her birthday, you know? So I'm sure it's going to be something special."

She still hasn't raised her head and her lips were pressed into a thin line, but he felt her body relaxing a bit. Her hand slowly massaged her empty stomach under the cloak - Gods know when was the last time she had a proper meal.

He gently grabbed her chin and coaxed her to look into his eyes.

"Do you trust me?"

She held his gaze for what felt like eternity when in fact it was only a few seconds. He held his breath - yes, maybe he just saved her life, but that gave her no reason to trust him. He was a stranger to her after all.

But then she gave him a small smile and nodded.

"I do."

He had to resist sighing in relief. Instead he smiled back and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"Then c'mon. I'm sure you're gonna like it."

This was not the gift Zaya had expected, but he was certain she will love it more than some silly dress. And even if Rashida wasn't a sign from the Gods, Bek already knew he wouldn't trade her for anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story came to when while watching the movie called "Gods of Egypt" in which Brenton Thwaites plays a main character named Bek. This is basically a little crossover with this movie, because I placed these events a year after the movie's canon.  
> Get ready for a journey, because we're gonna follow these two souls throughout history, until they become the people we know and love.  
> Hope you enjoyed and see you next time!


	3. ANCIENT GREECE - ARCHAIC PERIOD, ATHENS, YEAR 490 B.C.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to chapter 3! Today we're visiting ancient Greece! I hope you like this trip throughout history so far. Just so you know, I do a lot of research for this fic, trying to find time accurate names, events and places. I think I've read more about history while writing this fic than ever at school.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!
> 
> Also a little trigger warning:  
> \- time-accurate slavery  
> \- physical abuse

### ANCIENT GREECE - ARCHAIC PERIOD, ATHENS, YEAR 490 B.C.

* * *

He hated places like this. The ubiquitous stench of sweat and blood. Mournful screams, wailing and crying breaking through the clink of chains, hiss of whips and commands given in a loud voice.

Diocles was not planning on visiting the slave market today, but that was clearly Zeus' will.

He led his white horse through the muddy main road and looked around, his mouth twisting in a grimace of disgust, anger and sadness. He hated slavery with all his heart, though it was assumed otherwise, given his social status and family wealth. Yes, he had servants at home, but they were people freed from shackles, treated well, and receiving high wages for their work. They were friends of his family, not objects that could be used to the limit of their endurance and then thrown away like worthless garbage. Not everyone was sympathetic to this point of view, but Diocles didn't care.

A breeze of west wind blew a lock of auburn hair on his forehead, but it also brought a sound of crying with it, louder and more desperate than any other around. His dark brown eyes scanned his immediate surroundings in search of the source of the sound, until finally founding a scuffle under the west wall surrounding the square. Two men tried to handcuff a child about twelve years old. Long raven-black hair, tangled and matted, fell over the girl's face, the rag she was wearing was barely holding on to her body. She tried to break free from the trader's grasp, but the man was towering over her in both height and weight. She was losing strength, her movements became slower, and when the other man (probably the one who had bought her) slapped her, she fell to the ground, her face landing in the mud. She didn't get up.

It was then that Diocles noticed rows of bloody wounds marking her back, unquestionably inflicted by the whip, and realized that he could no longer watch. It was time to intervene.

He kicked the horse's sides with the heels of his shoes, tightened its cords, and galloped towards them.

"What's going on here?" he asked in a voice that could bear no objection and jumped off his horse, which huffed warningly as if echoing its owner. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Both men glanced at each other briefly before one of them - the Client - spoke in a coarse baritone.

"Well, that stupid bitch-" he began, emphasizing his words with a kick to the child's ribs. "- for which I have overpaid way too much, doesn't want to do what she's told."

Diocles tucked his clenched fist between the folds of his toga, barely holding back from sending it straight into the idiot's jaw.

"Maybe because this _child_ -" he growled through gritted teeth instead. "- should not be yours or anyone's property."

The merchant's eyes flashed as he regarded him.

"Ah, you are one of those." the older man said. "Fools who treat these rats like their equals."

Diocles knew it would be futile to try to explain his views to them, so he focused his attention on the girl instead.

She was alive, thankfully. Her shoulders trembled with fear and soft sobs. She was so skinny that her spine was clearly visible through her skin. There were whip marks all over her back, fresh wounds on the older, not fully healed ones.

He took a step towards her and leaned in, but then two crossed blades blocked his path.

"Not so fast, buddy." the Client growled. "Don't touch what is not yours."

Diocles slowly straightened, raising his hands in surrender. He wanted to abuse his rank and spit in their faces, but that would only end up with unnecessary bloodshed. He wasn't that man anymore, he worked hard to leave his dark past behind.

"I don't want to fight you." he admitted calmly. "But I won't let you take her either."

The trader took a step towards the child and pointed the tip of his weapon at her in warning, pressing it against the sensitive, jagged skin on her left shoulder blade. The girl whimpered in pain and curled in fear. The Client, on the other hand, rested his hands on his big belly and laughed out loud, revealing rows of yellow teeth.

"Is that so? By the Underground Fire, I wonder how you're going to do it?"

Then he had an idea.

"What if I buy her from you?"

This caught the man's attention. He narrowed his eyes and looked at him closely.

"Go on."

"I have money. More than I need." he breathed out and risked a glance sideways. The sight of the blade against this child's body made him panic. "You said you overpaid for her, right? I can give you twice as much."

The Client hesitated and looked at his 'property', while Diocles began praying to the Olympians that the man would value money more than a new prize.

The Client looked up at the Merchant and nodded, and the other man sheathed his blade.

"Give me the money and take her out of my sight." he said finally and held out his hand for the payment. "There would be no use for such a puff anyway."

Diocles tossed him a purse full of golden drachmas and walked over to the girl. He picked her up and set her on his horse, then jumped on behind her and galloped towards the gate.

When they were far from the market, he slowed down and began looking for the nearest water source. He managed to find a small fountain off the beaten track. He sat the girl on the edge of the tank, cut off a piece of his robe with a knife and wet it so that he could wash her face.

The cold water awakened her a little and she slowly opened her eyes. They were gray-blue, like the ocean during a storm. Diocles wiped off the mud from her pale cheeks and dark hair, moistened her chapped lips, then took off his toga and wrapped it tightly around the girl's body. With trembling fingers, she gripped the edges of the fabric and curled back into herself again, bowing her head and hiding her face from him.

Diocles crouched in front of her and placed his hand carefully on her knee. She flinched, but didn't back away.

"What's your name, child?" he asked softly.

She didn't answer. She just shuddered as a tear ran down her cheek. He tried again.

"Don't be afraid, you can tell me."

She raised her head slightly and gave him a brief look.

"I… I don't have a name anymore, my lord."

He should have expected that. She was a slave - she was going to act like she was taught.

"But you certainly did have one before." he said in a warm voice, giving her a gentle smile. "I am Diocles, you can call me by my name. I have never liked 'lord' anyway."

It brought a weak smile to her face and he took it as a victory. He was slowly breaking through her walls.

"So?" he asked after a while. "Do you remember what name you used to have?"

"R-Rhode."

"Rhode." he repeated. "Beautiful name. Maybe you'd like to come back to it?"

Finally she looked up and their eyes met. For a moment it was as if the world had stopped around them. His heart started to beat faster.

"Yes, I'd like that." she said softly. Diocles got up and held out his hand to her.

"Then come with me." He said. "In my house you'll be able to do whatever you want. We'll give you food and water. A place to rest. We will also take care of your wounds, so you won't have to suffer anymore."

Rhode stared at him with eyes wide from astonishment.

"I won't be a servant?"

"No." he shook his head. "You will be free. When you rest and recover, you can stay and live with me or leave, your choice. But first let me take care of you."

She looked down at her dirty feet. She was afraid, it was obvious. Diocles sat down beside her and took her hands.

"Hey, you can trust me, alright?"

She looked at their joined hands and then at his face. There was something familiar about her, but he couldn't say what exactly. He felt like he knew her, which was impossible. He was sure he had never seen her before.

And even more strangely - she was looking at him as if she felt the same.

"I trust you… Diocles."

The feeling of relief was overwhelming. And the sound of his name falling from her lips made his heart somersault in his chest.

"Then come." he said, standing up and pulling her with him. "I live nearby."

She nodded and let him sit her on the horse's back. As he sat down behind her, she leaned against his chest and hid her face in the crook of his neck, surprising him completely. Warmth spread over his entire body, and his eyes softened even more as he looked down at her. She was tired. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing deeply. And she was no longer afraid.

"Thank you." she whispered. Something in her voice brought tears to Diocles' eyes. It almost felt like the child was a gift from the Gods, a blessing he did not expect nor deserve.

"You're safe now." he said softly and nudged the horse to move. "Nobody's gonna hurt you anymore, I promise."


	4. MEDIEVAL TIMES - BRITANNIA, THE TOWN OF GRANTHAM, YEAR 1135

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to chapter 4! This time let me invite you to a time of castles, knights in shining armour on white horses and sorcery - medieval England!  
> I hope you are enjoying the ride so far.  
> So, enjoy and see you next time!

### MEDIEVAL TIMES - BRITANNIA, THE TOWN OF GRANTHAM, YEAR 1135

* * *

The world around her slowed down. All sounds muffled. Everything has become distant and unimportant.

Her short black hair fell on her face. She had long since ceased to feel the pain of the rope rubbing the skin on her wrists. Her cheeks no longer stung from constant slapping. Her forehead stopped bleeding after numerous attempts to cut out the red crystal.

The pile of wood she was placed on was so high that the whole town could see her perfectly. Dry branches prickled her bare feet. The monk read her sins aloud to the gathered crowd of peasants while the executioner tied her to a pole. She didn't need to listen, the list had been recited in her face so many times that she knew it now by heart. Witchcraft. Fraternizing with the devil. Renunciation and offense to God. They deemed her tainted, filthy, unclean. And she just wanted to save them.

They didn't know. They didn't know anything.

She lifted her blue eyes to the sky. A flock of ravens circled high above her head, mocking the priest's words and laughing cruelly. Her only friends, but even they couldn't help her now.

She has already come to terms with her fate. She had no one. She had nothing. She was nothing to her people. It was better to burn at the stake than to live with the knowledge that you were created only to destroy.

The torches caught fire. A few minutes of pain and it'll be over.

She closed her eyes and began to pray.

_Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name…_

Suddenly the ground trembled with the throbbing of horses' hooves. The whistle of swords pulled from their scabbards blew up in the wind. Metal clashed against metal, and people fled in panic.

She opened her eyes slowly. A group of knights, at least a dozen, rode among the villagers. The monks took up their weapons and went to fight, but they had no chance against the trained envoys of the king.

One of them in particular caught her attention. Maybe because he resembled the rider from her dreams, plaguing her for months.

He was riding a strong white horse. The red cloak fluttered behind him like a wave of fire, and the armor glistened even in the overcast sky. He fought fiercely, cut precisely. He was cruel and showed no mercy to his opponents.

And he was currently making his way to her by using his sword.

That goddamn priest noticed it as well. He tossed the precious parchment written in black ink into the mud and quickly picked up the torch lying on the ground. His black robe fluttered in the wind as he started walking toward the stake.

"Burn, witch." he growled, baring his teeth. He was nothing like the kind old man she remembered from her early childhood. But then again, she was no longer the thirteen-year-old child she was supposed to be. "May you rot in the depths of-"

He didn't have time to finish the sentence, however, because just then, with one smooth cut, his head landed in the mud, staining the list of her sins with scarlet blood.

Her and her savior's eyes met despite the fact that the knight's face was obscured by the helmet's visor. A strange shiver went through her body. Now that he was closer, he looked even more like the knight from her dreams. Was it a coincidence or a work of some higher power? She had no idea.

Suddenly she smelled smoke. She looked down and her eyes widened with fear, a silent scream escaping from her mouth. The torch fell next to the pile, close enough for the lower branches to catch fire. It spread quickly because the wood was dry and rotten, she could already feel the warmth under her feet, although the flames had not reached her yet.

The knight wasted no time - in two quick strides he reached the top of the pile and tried to untie the rope, but it was tight and resistant.

"Stay still." he commanded in a low and gentle voice and grabbed his sword. The blade glowed bloody red.

She risked another glance down. The flames were getting closer, the heat was becoming unbearable. In a moment, her feet will be on fire. Thick white smoke was already in the air, separating them from the battlefield.

Then the bonds loosened, releasing her sore hands. The knight caught her in his arms and lifted her, avoiding the flames. He jumped through the fire and ran towards his horse, helped her climb onto the animal's back, then jumped on after her and pulled the reins down, forcing the horse to gallop.

They only slowed down when they were a good few miles away from the town, at the edge of a dense forest. They hid among the trees and stopped by a small stream. Her savior helped her jump on the ground. She shivered when her feet touched the cool, damp grass and she rubbed her arms. Her thin, torn dress gave little protection from the fall chill.

The knight quietly directed her to sit on one of the moss-covered boulders and covered her with his cape. She immediately grabbed the fabric and wrapped it tighter around herself, shielding from the wind. Meanwhile, he took off his helmet and tied the horse to the nearest tree. Another shiver passed through her the moment she saw his face. The man looked very familiar - the sight of his auburn hair and dark brown eyes made her chest feel strange. Her heart began to beat faster, as if it wanted to push forward and run towards him.

She narrowed her eyes and looked at him closely.

"Have we- have we met before?" she asked hesitantly, her voice low and hoarse.

His fingers froze as he unbuckled the bag from the saddle. He hesitated, then glanced at her over his shoulder.

"I don't think so, miss."

He walked over to her and crouched down in front of her to be at the same eye level, holding a flask of water in his outstretched hand. She gratefully accepted the gift and took a few sips.

"Strange." she sighed, frowning. "Because I feel like I've seen you before… as if in a dream…"

"Then it's two of us now." he chuckled.

She looked at him with a twinkle of curiosity in her eyes, but it seemed he wasn't going to delve on that thought. Instead, he took his sword and sat across from her, cleaning the blade.

Strangely, the silence between them was neither heavy nor embarrassing. It seemed to be the natural course of things, quite ordinary. Comfortable, even.

But she needed answers.

"Thank you for saving me." she whispered, which caught his attention. He gave her a warm smile as he continued to work, and her heart sped up again in her chest because she felt she knew that smile. She knew it all too well. "But… why did you do that?"

"Burning children at the stake is beyond cruel." he said simply, as if he was describing the weather. His eyes were fixed on the blade. "No matter what act they commited."

"Even if the act is witchcraft?"

He put down his sword and leaned towards her, meeting her eyes. They were deep and warm, with no hint of the hate she was so used to. He saw her as a human being, as a child she still was deep in her heart, not as a monster everyone else deemed her to be.

"In my opinion, magic in itself is not evil." He admitted. "It all depends on the man who uses it and how he does it."

The corner of her mouth curled up and she raised an eyebrow as if giving him a challenge.

"How do you know I'm not evil?"

"A hunch."

His smile looked the same as his eyes - defiant, mischievous… and sincere. It made her sure she could trust him.

"What do they call you, knight?"

"Oh, where are my manners!" he cried out laughing and stood up, then bowed low, sending her another grin as if he were making fun of her. She found it quite charming. "Sir Dicun of Nottingham. And you are…"

She decided to play his game and jumped off the stone, then grabbed the hem of her dress and cursed gracefully, as befits a lady.

"Racquel of Grantham, sir."

They looked at each other and burst out laughing at the same time. They acted like old friends, although they had only known each other for a few minutes. Dicun picked up his cloak abandoned on the grass and wrapped it around her shoulders again.

"Well, Racquel…" he sighed. "I hope you won't mind the long horseback riding tour. We need to get back to my men before we continue our journey."

At these words, she felt a growing excitement in her stomach. Was he really taking her with him?

"And where are we going?"

He put a hand on her shoulder and smiled heartily.

"As far as possible from this damn hole, how about that?"

Surprising him and herself, she fell into his arms with a loud squeal. Dicun laughed lightly and hugged her, placing his hands on her back. A sense of peace and security that overwhelmed her in this moment almost made her start crying. One thing was certain - she trusted this man with all her heart.

"Thank you."

He pressed her closer to him.

"You don't have to thank me, child." he whispered. "Now come on. We'd better go before it gets dark."


	5. AMERICAN CIVIL WAR - WOODS NEAR SALYERSVILLE, KY, USA, YEAR 1864

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to chapter 5! This time we're visiting North America in the midst of Civil War. I did some reading on the topic since I'm not an expert and I wanted to be at least a bit accurate. I checked out some battles, mostly to place the story I had in mind somewhere (and the placement is honestly random but I did read a bit about the battle of Salyersville). I think this is my favorite chapter (but I'm also very proud of the next one 😉)
> 
> So enjoy and see you next time!

### AMERICAN CIVIL WAR - WOODS NEAR SALYERSVILLE, KY, USA, YEAR 1864

* * *

Reagan was just putting the water on the stove for tea as the first raindrops rattled off the roof of her modest cottage. Dark clouds were gathering over the valley since early in the afternoon, so it was only a matter of time before the storm came raging in. A strong wind hit the wooden walls, whistling and howling through the numerous crevices.

It was not the first time that the girl was left alone at home during a storm, so she knew exactly what to do and was not afraid. Her father had gone hunting in the morning with a shotgun on his shoulder and hadn't come back so far. He must have reached the nearest town and got drunk at some tavern, completely forgetting that he had a thirteen-year-old child at home.

As always.

It was his first hunt in more than two days, since a battle raged a few miles west of their home. The sounds of gunshots and explosions only stopped yesterday. Reagan expected not to see her father for at least a week.

She looked in the dirty, cracked mirror hanging on the wall. With her long raven-black hair, pale face and blue eyes, she did not look at all like the broad, red-haired man she lived with. He wasn't her real father - her mother had revealed this to her shortly before she died. They could not have children on their own, so they took in the daughter of a friend who wasn't ready to be a mother.

As she stood there, staring at her reflection and lost in thought, a knock on the door echoed through the small living room. At first, Reagan mistook it for thunder, but when it rang out a second time, she had no doubt that someone was outside.

She hesitated. She had heard many times that she shouldn't open the door to strangers. But something deep in her gut told her that this time there was nothing to be afraid of. So she walked slowly to the door and put her ear to the wooden boards.

"Who's there?" she asked. For a moment there was no answer, but then a low but gentle voice cut through the downpour.

"Sorry to bother you so late, miss." the stranger said. His words were slow and choppy, he was clearly panting. "But the storm caught me by surprise, my horse ran away, and I'm on my way to Falcon. I'm just looking for shelter from this damned weather."

Her heart leapt out of her chest with sympathy for the stranger. Nobody wanted to be at the mercy of such a terrible storm, especially at night in the middle of the forest. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Father won't like it. But she couldn't leave this man to the rain and lightning. So she turned the key, removed the bolt, and opened the door.

A young man appeared before her eyes. Tall, muscular and completely drained. Even with numerous tears and stains, she could easily recognize the uniform of a Union soldier. He must have been participating in a recent battle. He was leaning heavily against the doorframe, clearly tired, but he nodded and lifted the hem of his hat in a gesture of welcome, showing a mop of hazelnut hair, his chocolate brown eyes warm and friendly.

"Sergeant Richard Croft of 11th Michigan Cavalry." he introduced himself. "Hope it won't be a problem to wait this storm out under your roof."

For a moment, Reagan just stood there walled in, staring at the visitor with wide eyes. He seemed strangely familiar to her, she felt like she had seen that face before, heard that voice. As if in a dream… She wasn't sure, and besides, there was no time for such thoughts now. The man was shivering with cold, and his pale face and shaky breath indicated that he might be hurt.

"No, of course not!" she answered quickly and stepped out onto the small porch to help him enter. She led him to the fireplace and sat him in her father's armchair, then quickly climbed the wooden stairs to the attic, scooped a large woolen blanket from her bed and handed it to the man to dry and warm himself up.

"Thank you." he sighed, wrapping the fabric tighter around himself.

"Maybe some tea?" she proposed. "I'm just heating the water."

He smiled at her gratefully.

"That'd be great."

After a few minutes, she returned with a mug of steaming drink in her hands and handed it to the stranger, then sat down in the chair next to him and put the wood on the dying fire.

"Thank you very much again, miss."

"Just Reagan." she corrected him, smiling shyly. "Reagan Gray, Sergeant."

He chuckled and his smile widened.

"Then I'm just Richard. There's no need for my rank right now."

They laughed together, enjoying the moment. It's been a long time since she felt so calm and relaxed. Richard's company was an unexpected but welcome gift from God. Even if it's just for one night.

But then Richard doubled over, and his laughter turned into a groan of pain. With a shaking hand, he set the mug down on the small table and with the other he gripped his side. Reagan frowned in worry.

"What's going on? Are you okay?"

"A bullet wound." he gasped. "On the last day of fighting I ran out of luck a bit and they hit me. Our field doctor took the bullet out and patched me up as much as he could, but I wasn't supposed to get proper treatment until Falcon."

Slowly, he pulled his hand out from under the blanket, revealing red blood on his fingers, glowing in the firelight. At the sight of this, Reagan sprang from her chair, frightened, while he only glanced at it briefly and wiped the blood on his pants as if it were only dust.

"And they let you go on your own?" she exclaimed, indignant. "What idiots!"

"Yes, you know… maybe they can fight, but they don't have very sharp minds. Some of them, at least."

She slowly walked over to the chair and crouched down beside him, covering his hand with hers.

"Can I see?" she asked hesitantly, her eyes full of concern and compassion. Richard laced her fingers with his and squeezed her hand comfortingly.

"Believe me." he whispered. "This is not a sight for little girls."

Reagan rolled her eyes.

"First of all - I'm thirteen, I'm not so little anymore." she pouted, bringing a cheerful smile to his face. "And second… my mother was a nurse, I had seen far worse things than a gunshot wound. And I learned a few things along the way."

They stared at each other for a few more seconds, but then Richard gave up.

"All right." he sighed, then lifted his index finger and waved it warningly at her eyes. "Just be careful."

She saluted, mocking him.

"Yes, sir."

He pulled back the hem of his jacket and slowly rolled up his white, bloodied shirt, revealing a wound in his left side. Several stitches broke and the area of skin around the injury was red and swollen.

"The wound is irritated, probably from horse riding, but it doesn't look infected." she explained in a matter-of-fact tone, then raised her head to meet his eyes. "I have some medicinal herbs that will reduce the swelling and stop the bleeding. I can't do more."

"If it allows me to survive my journey to Falcon, then it's good." he said and patted her hand. "Thank you, Reagan."

She disappeared into the kitchen for a few minutes to prepare a wrap. During this time the storm calmed down, the rain slowed and the rumble of thunder ceased.

She took a deep breath to calm her raging heart. There may not have been an infection, but Richard has lost a lot of blood. Sooner or later, this wound would kill him. And she really wanted to prevent it. She felt a strange connection to him, she couldn't describe it. She trusted him even though life had taught her not to trust anyone. And she cared about him, despite just meeting him.

She looked down at her trembling hands. There was one thing, one ability that she hadn't told him about. Her mother called it a gift, her father a curse. She was forced to hide her second nature from the world, all she could do was see it in the mirror and hear it in her head. Exposing it to a stranger was extremely risky. But how else was she going to save him?

She returned to the living room and got to work. She cleaned the wound and started applying the dressing. Then she heard a voice in her head.

_Do it. Let me work._

She hesitated.

_Do you want him to survive or not?_

She looked up at his face. Richard tilted his head back and closed his eyes. His jaw was clenched and his forehead was covered with drops of sweat, although he was trembling slightly all the time. It was probably from the pain.

Slowly releasing air from her lungs, Reagan placed her open palms against the wound and closed her eyes, focusing her mind on it. She felt a familiar energy flow through her body. Richard startled, but she continued nonetheless. After a long moment she opened her fingers and lifted the bandage. There was no trace of the wound. She smiled triumphantly.

"How did you do that?"

His voice surprised her so much that she took her hands away and jumped back in panic. Richard stared at her, eyes wide.

"I- I'm sorry." she began to stutter. "I shouldn't have- I just wanted- I couldn't help myself, I…"

"Hey, easy." he assured her, raising his hand and smiling at her. "It's alright. I'm just curious."

She took a cautious step forward, frowning.

"Aren't you afraid of me?"

"What should I be afraid of?" he asked, laughing. "You healed me. Completely. Look."

To demonstrate, he stood up and turned around. He was in full strength. She smiled slightly and her chest filled with a strange warmth and a feeling of relief.

"Even if what I did should be impossible?"

"Darling, I've seen many things in my life that should be considered impossible."

She was about to ask him about those things when suddenly the front door slammed open, hitting the wall so hard it nearly fell off its hinges. Reagan flinched and Richard stepped in front of her, shielding her with his body. Instinctively, she hid behind his back.

"What the hell is the meaning of this?" a low and heavy voice rumbled loudly against the walls of the small room. Reagan turned pale and cautiously faced the newcomer.

"Nothing, Father." she whispered in a slow, calming voice. "This man needed shelter from the storm, so I…"

Her father regarded the soldier from head to toe with a sharp gaze, then staggered forward. He was completely drunk, his cheeks were red, and there was fury in his eyes. Reachel bowed her head as he approached her.

"You let that filthy scum in my house?" he roared, his voice growing stronger and louder with each word. "You bitch!"

He raised a huge hand to strike her, but then the sharp tip of the saber blade touched his throat, digging just hard enough for a trickle of blood to run down his skin.

"I warn you, I wouldn't do that if I were you." Richard growled.

Then several things happened at once and the whole incident took less than a minute.

Her father pushed her aside, sending her to the floor, and lunged at Richard like a furious bull. They punched each other with their fists and kicked each other as hard as they could, bouncing off walls and furniture. Richard was faster and better trained, but the other man outweighed him and soon knocked him down, sitting on him and pinning him to the floor.

As a dagger glittered in his hand, Reagan didn't hesitate a second.

She focused all her fear and rage on the target as her eyes turned black as night and dark, thick smoke began to come out of her hand. It surrounded the man who had never been her father and threw him forcefully against the wall. It enveloped him completely, enclosing him in a tight cocoon. For a moment the man threw himself around and screamed, but after a while his body went limp and the screams faded. The fog slowly slid off him and, creeping across the floor, returned to its mistress.

As Reagan's eyes fell on the motionless body lying in a pool of blood, a loud sob came out of her throat and she crawled up against the wall, trembling like a leaf in the wind. She couldn't believe what she had done. She had never used her powers in this way before.

Then two warm hands rested on her shoulders and lifted her off the floor, drawing her to a broad chest. Richard hugged her tightly, his hand stroking her hair.

"What have I done?" she whispered, hiding her face in the crook of his neck. "I'm a monster."

"He was the monster, Reagan. Not you." Richard whispered in her ear, then leaned back slightly and cupped her face in his hands. "Listen, we have to run. Find a bag and pack as much food and medical stuff as you can carry. Do you have any warm clothes?"

She nodded quickly, sniffling. He smiled slightly.

"Okay, take them. And some decent shoes - we've got a long way ahead of us."

In ten minutes she was ready to go. She covered her father's body with his old jacket so she wouldn't have to look at his face. She slammed the door behind her and walked outside, where Richard was already waiting for her with his bag over his shoulder and his weapon at the ready.

"We're going to Falcon as you planned?" she asked. He reached out and took her hand.

"Yes. We will find shelter there. I know people who will help us get to Detroit and further north. We'll be safe."

"We?" she asked, surprised. Richard looked at her and gave her a wide grin.

"Yes - we." he confirmed. "Do you really think I'm gonna leave you now? After all of this? No way. Now come on. As long as the sky is clear and we can see the road."

She was speechless. She really expected him to abandon her and run away after what she just had done. But it seemed he had no intention of doing so. Tears filled her eyes as this realization hit her.

"Thank you."

And so they set off, and only the moonlight illuminated their path.


	6. WORLD WAR II - BONNEVAL, FRANCE, YEAR 1944

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to chapter 6! This time we find ourselves in a Nazi-occupied France in the year 1944. And - it's another movie crossover! This time the story is set in the plot of one of Brenton's movies that came out this year - "Ghosts of War". You don't have to worry for spoilers though - I only used the beginning of the movie for plot and setting purposes and also the character of Chris (who's another version of Dick in here) and his team of soldiers. For those who don't know yet - the character named Butchie is played by Alan Ritchson in the movie, so I guess I have a WWII version of Hank Hall in this chapter as well!
> 
> Enjoy and see you next time - in present this time 😉

### WORLD WAR II - BONNEVAL, FRANCE, YEAR 1944

* * *

They were already exhausted, and they still had another 30 miles to go through the hills - at least according to the map Chris had in his pocket. The day was warm and sunny, low-flying planes crossed the cloudless sky from time to time. But the long hike, even if not interrupted by any troubles, took its toll on them anyway - their feet ached, bodies drowned in sweat under heavy uniforms and equipment, and blood oozed from their dry, cracked lips.

"Feels like my feet are gonna fall off." one of his comrades, a tall bulky guy they called Butchie, exclaimed.

"Once we get there it'll be cake." Chris comforted him. "You guys can sleep for days."

"Who are we babysitting this time?"

"Not a _who_ \- a mansion or a castle." he began to explain. "It's supposed to be a big deal when the 82nd Airborne came through and pushed out the Nazi High Command. We're to hold it till our relief comes."

"How long is that?" Butchie inquired curiously.

"As long as it takes."

The mansion was huge - a two-story white building with lots of arched tall windows, ornate balconies, long cloisters and wide terraces. It was in fact a house worthy of royalty.

The group that had been currently guarding this place seemed to be very happy with their arrival. As Chris and his team entered the vast hall through the front door, they quickly gathered their gear and were ready to move out in a matter of minutes. One of them turned at the threshold and sneered at them.

"Good luck, mates."

Chris frowned as he watched the door slam shut behind them so loudly that echoes rang across the building's vast open spaces.

"That was weird."

"What, ghosts chased them away?" Kirk quipped and got hit in the head by Eugene, who nearly knocked his helmet off.

"Don't be an idiot, Kirk - ghosts don't exist!"

"And how do you know that, genius?"

"Let's split up." Chris ordered, ending the two companions' childish banter. Both men straightened up quickly, instantly becoming serious. "Let's do a reconnaissance and check the area. And choose your bedrooms while you're at it. I'm taking the first watch."

His colleagues saluted him and went away in different directions. Chris took a deep breath and looked around at the antique mahogany furniture, ornate paintings, polished oak balustrades. The interior of this mansion was even more impressive than its exterior. The air was full of mystery and long history of this household. Who knew what secrets lurked among these walls?

***

As darkness fell upon the sky, the house surrounded into complete silence. Every step Chris took sounded like a fired cannon on the wooden floor. With his rifle slung over his shoulder, he had just entered the vast library in the east wing of the building. Shelves full of books covered every scrap of wall between the tall windows, all the way to the ceiling. In the center of the room stood a wide mahogany desk, which still had various kinds of papers, pens, and stamps scattered on it. He sat down in a large brown leather armchair and glanced down at the documents.

They seemed to be hand-written letters, but they all were in French, so he couldn't read them. The weirdest part about this desk - and this entire room - was that nothing here looked long unused. The paper wasn't old and yellowed, most of the shelves weren't covered with dust like in other rooms. Has someone from the previous team been using this room before?

Then a quiet sound broke through the silence - as if someone had stepped on a loose, squeaky floorboard somewhere above his head. Chris froze, listening, but nothing else happened.

 _I think I slept too little_ , he decided, coming to a conclusion that he must have misheard something, or even imagined it because of his exhaustion. But something in his gut told him he shouldn't ignore it. So he went back to looking through the volumes on the desk, leaving his senses on high alert.

After about ten minutes he heard another noise - this time he perfectly recognized the sound of a book falling on the carpeted wooden floor. It came from somewhere on the upper floor of the library, more specifically from the balcony above his head. He sprang up from his chair and, guns ready, headed up the stairs to the second floor.

The balcony was empty and overlooked the entire room. Rows of wooden shelves lined the walls just like down below, and there was no sign of anyone other than himself.

Except for a single book lying on the carpet a dozen feet in front of him.

Chris stepped closer and lifted the volume into his hands. It was the French edition of _Alice in Wonderland_ , and a piece of paper was sticking out from between the pages about halfway through it, as if marking the last page read. He opened the book and pulled it out carefully, turning it between his fingers.

It was an oval photograph of a little girl, about ten years old. Her large eyes framed with long lashes stared up somewhere beyond the frame, and cascades of raven-black hair gently fell over her shoulders, covering the delicate ruffles of her white dress. A white rose in full bloom was tucked behind her ear, and her small but full lips were raised in a slight smile.

She was a really extraordinary child. Her beauty was remarkable. There was something so familiar about her sparkling eyes and round cheeks that Chris's heart suddenly pounded harder, as if at the sight of an old friend he hadn't seen in ages. But at the same time, the girl seemed to come from a completely different world.

He was so immersed in the image that at first he didn't notice the text at the bottom of the page.

**Rachelle d’Aumont, 1940**

"1940?" he muttered under his breath, raising his eyebrows in surprise. This photo has been taken just four years ago. Young Rachelle must have lived here with her family.

Suddenly Chris gasped and a cold shiver ran down his spine when he remembered the information about this place that Command had given him.

The property belonged to a multigenerational French family coming from the aristocracy. The Nazis took over the building in 1941. It is speculated that the family was murdered, but the bodies were never found.

Surprising grief squeezed his chest, almost sending him to his knees. The cruelty of this war was painful and overwhelming, but at that moment he was overcome with such unimaginable suffering that he could not understand it. He mourned the girl as if he knew her, as if she was close to his heart, although he knew nothing but her face from this photograph.

"I'm so sorry." he whispered, a tear streaming down his cheek. He put the book back on the shelf and hid the photo in his uniform pocket.

The sound of footsteps broke him out of his reverie. It couldn't have been any of his colleagues, because the steps were light and quick, not the hard and heavy ones made by military boots. He leaped to the railing and looked around the empty room, but as his eyes moved towards the archway he noticed the hem of a gray skirt and a small foot clad in a lady's slipper disappearing behind the wall.

"No way." he whispered and ran quickly down the stairs. Unfortunately, the other rooms were empty as well. He checked all possible corners, ran out to the main staircase, but to no avail. He was still alone, surrounded only by complete silence. He sighed and dragged his hand over his tired face.

"I really need sleep."

He turned on his heel and was about to get back to his post when suddenly there was a loud noise coming through the hallway, as if someone were making a mess in the kitchen. He heard one of his colleagues shout - Kirk, probably - and the sounds of a scuffle. Chris ran quickly down the stairs and sprinted in that direction.

The sight he found in the kitchen surprised him completely.

Kirk was just getting up off the floor, holding his head. Eugene and Tappert stood on one side of the table, weapons ready. And Butchie tried to tame a small figure struggling in his grasp, wailing like an animal in a trap. Chris managed to catch a few French words from the screams.

"What the hell is going on here?" he asked loudly, to which everyone, including the newcomer, stopped.

"That gremlin tried to steal our food." Butchie hissed through gritted teeth, tearing out a piece of meat they ate for dinner from a pale little fist.

"I don't know where this kid came from," Kirk added as he got to his feet and brushed the dust off himself. "But she knocked me on the floor with one kick."

Chris motioned his companions to lower their weapons, then walked over to the table, his eyes fixed on the thief.

But as soon as his hands touched the table top, the girl with a quick movement of her head hit Butchie on the nose, broke free from his arms and, kneeling in the middle of the table, pulled out a knife hidden in her sock. With trembling hands she pointed it at the soldiers.

"Stay away!" she warned them speaking in English, though the French accent was clearly audible in her voice.

Chris looked at her closely. She was wearing a gray, battered dress with long sleeves that looked like it was from a different era. The long black hair was dirty and tangled, partially covering her face. It was there that he hung his gaze for a longer time, and suddenly his heart sped up.

Her cheeks were still round, though pale, dirty, and slightly sunken. The eyes had the same glow, even when full of fear. A withered flower was stuck in her hair, but it wasn't a rose this time.

"It's you…" he gasped.

"You know her?" Eugene asked, but Chris ignored him. Slowly he reached into his pocket and turned the found photograph towards her.

"You're her, aren't you?" he asked softly. "Rachelle, that's your name."

The girl lowered the knife and looked into his eyes. Something in her gaze changed and after a moment she nodded.

He couldn't believe his eyes. He took a risk and stepped towards her. This time she let him. He reached out and handed her the piece of food she wanted to steal.

"Have you been here all this time?"

Rachelle carefully took the meat from his hand and clenched it in her fist.

"Family is dead." she whispered after a moment. "Bad people came… I ran away! Now alone… and hungry."

She took a bite of the meat but got scared and dropped it as Eugene stepped closer. At the sight of her reaction, he paused and raised his hands up to show that he had no evil intentions.

"Is this your home?"

The girl nodded in confirmation.

"Yes… but bad people-"

"We're not bad, Rachelle." Chris assured her, putting a hand on her shoulder. Surprisingly, she did not move away from him. "We are the good ones. I'm not going to hurt you and neither is either of them - right guys?"

The entire group nodded in response, hiding and putting their weapons away.

"You don't have to be afraid of us, I promise." He continued. It was a miracle that this child was still alive. And he was going to make sure it stayed that way. "I will personally make sure that you get something to eat. Maybe you want to refresh yourself? We will prepare you a bath. Um… Do you… do you understand me?"

"Yes." she replied softly, giving him the same smile he knew from the photograph. Instinctively, he raised a hand and put a strand of hair behind her ear, revealing her face. Even despite all the dirt and fatigue, she still looked lovely. Her eyes glowed blue as if they were a mirror image of the sky.

"I'll take care of you." he told her. He felt a bit like he was under some kind of spell. But his heart told him he couldn't leave her alone. Never, no matter what. "But only if you let me."

Tears welled up in her eyes and her lower lip began to tremble. Before Chris realized what was happening, she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Merci… Merci…" she sobbed softly and he smiled, pulling her closer. It didn't take a genius to figure out what her words meant.

_Thank you._

"You don't need to be afraid anymore, Rachelle." he assured her, stroking her back gently. "You will be safe with me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't watched "Ghosts of War" yet, make sure to check it out. I'm not a fan of horror movies and yet this one owns my heart (not just because of Brenton). The plot is incredibly intriguing - you can get a taste of it at the beginning of this chapter, 'cause I used actual quotes from the movie. And the ending took my breath away, that's all I'm gonna say.  
> The town this chapter is set in I picked randomly from a map since the movie doesn't state where exactly this mansion is located.


	7. PRESENT TIME - DETROIT, MI, USA, YEAR 2018

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to chapter 7! We finally made it to present day. If you're here then I'm sure you know these scenes by heart, just like I do. But I still encourage you to read this chapter because whenever I'm writing something that already exists in the show, I always try to go beyond what's on the screen, get into the character's head - and this is exactly what I did here.
> 
> So enjoy and see you soon when I come back with the epilogue.

### PRESENT TIME - DETROIT, MI, USA, YEAR 2018

* * *

A young man entered a small, dimly lit interrogation room. One of the deputies sent him there, claiming he'd be perfect to deal with this case since he _has that thing for helping kids_ , as the woman said it. Maybe there was something in it, because the moment he heard these words, a spark of curiosity ignited in his heart.

He took his time to collect himself and school his features before entering the room. He was tall, muscular, considered handsome by many - all of that and more made him intimidating. Most of the times it worked in his favour, especially under the darkness of night when he brought justice to the streets in a way no badge ever approved. But this time he had to take a different approach.

"Hi, there. How're you doing?" he said in a light tone as he stepped inside with an empty coffee cup in hand that he instantly threw in a trash can. "Word on the street is you like playing baseball with bricks and cop cars."

He tried to be confident but not in a threatening manner and appear more approachable. His side-swept dark brown hair fell slightly over his forehead. Deep chocolate eyes were warm and friendly, and his smile was gentle, polite but with a hint of playfulness. The whole thing made his face seem trustworthy - well, at least he hoped so.

He did what he always does in this kind of situation. He tried to seem relaxed even if his mind was clouded with dark thoughts and worries - his black tie was hanging loose and his sleeve cuffs were rolled up to his elbows. He spoke calmly and downright affectionately, and his voice was low and soft.

However, the gold detective's badge shining at his hip, right next to the gun holster, as always made it clear that he was serious about his job when he slowly walked over to the table and fell into his chair.

"I'm detective Dick Grayson." he introduced himself. "Wanna talk about what happened?"

Sitting across from him there was a girl. A child, in fact, no more than thirteen. Her hands were clasped together on the table, she evidently tried to hide the trembling of her fingers. Her chin-length black hair was weaved with blue highlights, as if in an act of rebellion. Pale cheeks were marked with trails of smudged mascara. And though her gaze was filled with pain and tiredness, her sharp blue eyes were focused on him, carefully watching his every move.

He had never seen such a fierce gaze in a child's eyes. There was something strange about this girl, a sensation he couldn't describe nor understand. Like a weird version of deja vu, but not in a sense of a situation. It was something different, Dick just couldn't specify _how_ different. 

And her gaze - she was staring at him blatantly with brows furrowed in a mix of confusion and concentration. It was an expression one wore when trying to figure out why and where from they recognize someone. And when he told her his name, her eyes grew wide as if a realization hit her.

Honestly he's been through this before. He was an adoptive son of one of (if not _the_ ) richest men on the planet, of course he was easily recognisable to some people. So he wasn't fazed at all when the kid breathed out a quiet 'It's you' at him.

"I'm not sure if you-" he started, meaning to remind her that his famous background wasn't the topic of this meeting. But nothing could've prepared him for what fell out of the girl's mouth next.

"You're the boy from the circus."

He wasn't sure how to react. It felt like all these droplets of sweat that covered his back turned to ice needles in a second. It wasn't really about _what_ she said - the story of how he became a Wayne was easy to find online. It was the fact that she spoke these words as if she knew him. As if she knew him _back then_ . As if _the boy from the circus_ wasn't just a figure of speech used in a headline, but a friend she knew and cared for. The confusion it brought held him so tight that all he could do was stare at her when the girl leaned closer and whispered with a voice full of despair.

"Please… Can you help me?" 

"Who are you?" he asked in a low tone, feeling his confusion slowly turning into anger. "Is this some kind of a sick, practical joke?"

"I remember… People were happy that night."

Okay, now he was really getting angry.

"What the hell is this?" he hissed, looking her straight in the eyes. But the girl was unfazed, simply continuing as if she hadn't heard his question at all.

"You most of all… Your parents, I've watched them fall. You kept wishing it was a dream, wished you knew you'd wake up."

It was beyond his comprehension at that moment. How the hell this kid knew all of this? Not only what happened, but also his thoughts, his _feelings_ \- and she was talking like she had seen it all with her own eyes.

His mind started making theories. Was this all a part of a plan made by one of Gotham's rats who tried to get under Robin's skin? Was this their way to lure him back into the city?

"Who put you up to this?"

Her answer was even more confusing.

"Everything led me here - to you. It can't be by accident. You've got to help me, I don't know how-"

"You want help so you throw a brick at a cop car?"

"You don't understand…"

"Then make me understand-"

"Someone killed my mom!"

It felt as if something had snapped inside of him, like a rubber band stretched too far. These four words had an impact of a slap on the cheek and a bucket of cold water poured over his head at the same time. His anger evaporated, all theories, thoughts and suspicions have disappeared. There was only a void in her eyes - a heartbreak, anger, fear and loneliness mixed with a desperate plea for help. He knew that look all too well - he saw it in the mirror every day for sixteen years now.

He took out a pen and a notebook from his pocket, then moved them across the table towards the girl.

"Okay… Name, address."

She took the items from him and quietly wrote the necessary information on a piece of paper, sniffing slightly. He was watching her closely all this time. He didn't know why, but somehow he couldn't take his eyes off her. Her head hung low, her dark hair covering her face. She tried to hide her tears, wanted to look at least a bit strong and brave, even though she was falling apart inside.

When she handed back the notebook, he quickly looked at what she had written down in it. Her mother's name - Melissa Roth - and a home address in Traverse City.

"She was all I had." she said suddenly, looking at the page, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "The only person in the world who cared for me. I'm alone now."

She gave him the pen and when he reached out to take it she grabbed his hand. Something weird happened upon the touch. It was like he was transported into his own memories. He saw his parents' lifeless bodies laying on the ground. Himself, kneeling above them and clutching his mother's hand. A police officer pulling him away as paramedics try to perform CPR. A hand on his shoulder, _I want to help you_ whispered into his ear - Bruce. Then he's suddenly in his bedroom at Wayne Manor and later seeing a plate of fruits with a white envelope left between them. His name was written on it with smooth handwriting.

His memories, yet he watched them through someone else's eyes. _Her_ _eyes_.

Upon realizing that Dick yanked his hand out of her grasp and the vision ended. The girl flinched and let out a gasp, looking at him with wide eyes as if she just woke up herself.

They stared at each other for a few seconds, both completely still. He wasn't sure if she was even breathing - he knew he wasn't. But he managed to snap out of it first. 

"Listen, I'm gonna go check this out, okay?" he said as he quickly got up from his chair. Maybe a little too quickly - he really didn't mean to make it look like he's running away. He wasn't running away. He wasn't.

"Don't leave me here!" the girl cried out quickly, her pleading voice causing a sharp pain in his heart. He turned around and looked at her again. 

"Rachel, you vandalized a police car." he started explaining. Rachel - that was her name. It was the first time he used it, which brought another strange sensation to his chest. "You're not going anywhere until-"

"You don't understand." she interrupted him, seemingly on the verge of panic. "You need to lock me up. Please. There's something inside of me. Something evil."

A cold chill ran down his spine. He'd seen evil before, and this kid surely wasn't it. But the way she said it, like it was the only thing in the world she was certain about… The sight was truly heartbreaking. She was coming undone right in front of him and no matter how much he wanted to help - it was like something was pulling him to her, harder every time he tried to resist - he knew he couldn't.

"I can't give you the kind of help you need." he said slowly and moved to the door. "But I will find someone who can."

"Don't leave me here." Rachel tried again, more desperate this time. It almost made him turn back. Almost.

"Look, I'm sorry. I really am."

Knowing he won't be able to take any more - mere looking at her face was becoming too much for him - he stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him.

***

It took him less than ten seconds to eliminate this fake cop. With a gun at the ready, he headed deeper into the dark, abandoned building. He was completely focused on the task, all senses on high alert, but he couldn't chase away the intrusive thoughts bumping inside his skull.

He shouldn't have left her. He shouldn't have run away. He should have just ignored Rohrbach and turned back as his instincts had told him.

He didn't know what frightened him more - what had happened in the interrogation room when their hands touched, or the fact that something was drawing him to Rachel, some invisible string of understanding. He could see more of himself in her with each passing moment and he didn't know what to make of it. Many times in his career as a detective (and a vigilante) he has dealt with children who have been wronged in various ways. But never before had any of them made him feel such responsibility and protectiveness. He had never developed such a strong bond with any of them.

He left the interrogation room with an intention to call Social Services, but when he picked up his phone, he couldn't bring himself to do it. He had learned first hand how the system worked, and he couldn't let Rachel get into it.

But he made his decision too late. His blood froze in his veins when he saw her unconscious in the backseat of a police car, driving away. He knew immediately that she was in danger.

 _That's enough, focus_ , he reminded himself, then risked calling out her name. In response he heard a terrifying scream that made all the hair on his skin stand up. Rachel called for help, her voice coming from somewhere upstairs. He went there and found the room in which she was being held, but barely had time to peek in, because the door slammed in front of him with such force that it sent him to the floor. He got up quickly and grabbed the handle, but the door was locked. He heard commotion and screams on the other side, suddenly a man's face was pressed to the stained glass window, leaving a trail of blood, and then - silence.

He finally managed to enter the room. The first thing he noticed was a body lying in a pool of blood, right under his feet. But as soon as the sound of labored breathing reached him from deep within the room, everything else ceased to matter.

Rachel was tied to the chair, broken sobs escaped from her mouth and tears ran down her cheeks. Dick quickly leapt over to her and cut the ties with his pocket knife.

"What happened?" he asked, glancing back at the body and then at her with eyes full of concern. His heart was about to break out of his chest. Only now did he realize how much he feared for her, and how relieved he was to see her safe and sound.

"I don't know." she sobbed and threw herself into his arms, surprising him completely.

On one hand, Dick had no idea what to do, as if his brain had encountered some kind of error. But on the other, his arms went up and wrapped themselves around the girl's body on their own accord, and his hands rested gently on her back. At this contact, Rachel pressed herself tighter against him, nestling against his shoulder.

"Please help me." she whispered to his ear, knocking all the air from his lungs with those three simple words. He hugged her tighter as he felt her trembling against him and held her like that for what felt like a long time.

He didn't have the faintest idea what to do, but he couldn't leave her either. It terrified him, but at the same time he was sure that he would not be able to hand her over to strangers now. Her words from earlier came back to him, echoing in his ears. _There's something inside of me. Something evil._ Looking at the guy laying in his own guts, it looked like she might have meant this literally. Other people wouldn't understand that - be he did, on more than one level.

Rachel needed help, she needed _him_. Only him and no one else. And that was enough for him to make what was going to be a life-changing decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure you've noticed this is really an extended version of what was in the prologue. Also while writing this chapter I realized that maybe I should've written it first and use it as a blueprint for other chapters because it feels a bit different to me than what I've written before. But I'm still happy with what came out of this story anyway 😁
> 
> See you soon!


	8. EPILOGUE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to chapter 8 - the Epilogue! Those of you who have read my previous work "Comfort Hoodie" might remember a tiny bit from there where Rachel remembers her first night back from Themyscira when she and Dick were hanging out on the Tower's rooftop. I decided to take this little idea and make it bigger by using it here.
> 
> Enjoy!

The sky is unexpectedly clear tonight. Scattered stars sparkle like diamonds. Bright light of the full moon paints a wavy trail on the waters surrounding San Francisco, its end disappearing below the horizon. This sight reminds Rachel of the nights she spent on the beaches of Themyscira, listening to the hum of the ocean and meditating.

"Isn't it weird?" she asks as she lays down on the soft blanket. "Usually people say you can't see the stars in big cities."

Dick laughs quietly to himself. He's laying on his back with his head propped on his hands and his eyes fixed on the sky. But he reaches out with his arm and pulls her closer, letting her nestle against his chest.

"Maybe from street level." he replies, stroking her dark hair with his hand. "But you can see much more from up high."

She props herself slightly on her elbow and glances at him from beneath raised eyebrows, the corner of her mouth pulling up in an ironic smile.

"Batman told you that?"

"My mom, actually."

"Oh." she whispers in surprise and looks down. But Dick raises his hand and slowly tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. His touch is tender and gentle, and when she looks back at him, she finds a warm smile on his face.

"Yeah, Mary Grayson always loved being in the clouds." he sighs, his eyes sparkling with something indescribable. After a moment his lips stretch into a huge grin. "Maybe that's why I like being on the roofs so much."

They stare at each other for a few seconds before bursting out laughing. Indeed, it was his idea to take a blanket and snacks, and run away to the roof of the Tower to catch up and make up for six months of separation. Merely 24 hours ago Rachel was still on the other side of the world, in a place that for most people was nothing but a myth.

Giggling, she drops back onto his chest and puts her arm around his waist. The strong heartbeat under her ear is reassuring, it reminds her that she is finally home. Dick wraps his arms around her tighter, locking her in a protective embrace. Being apart for so long was hard for him as well. No wonder he doesn't want to let her go now.

A comfortable silence falls between them as they both turn their gaze back to the sky. Their thoughts wander in different directions, although their hearts beat in the same, parallel rhythm. The sounds of the street barely reach them from below. It's as if they are locked in their own bubble, in a little corner of the world that belongs only to them.

"Do you think the universe fights for souls to be together?" Rachel mumbles suddenly as she plays with the loose button on Dick's shirt.

"What do you mean?" he asks after a moment with his face hidden in her hair. He closes his eyes for a brief moment to enjoy the familiar scent.

"Well… As I was preparing to resurrect Donna, my teachers on Themyscira told me a lot about fate and destiny, that sometimes things are just meant to be… as if it was all written in the stars."

She pauses for a second to collect her thoughts. Dick continues to stroke her back, his touch soothing. Neither of them says anything for a while.

"And it got me thinking… that maybe we wouldn't have met if… if I hadn't had that dream… you know…"

"About the death of my parents?"

"Yeah, that." she confirms, a bit embarrassed. She stirs a little and raises her head to look at his face. "And I spent a lot of time wondering what would have happened if I had gone somewhere else than Detroit that day or if I hadn't thrown a brick at that police car… If you think about it - a whole series of coincidences have brought us together."

Dick releases a long sigh and turns his gaze back to the stars. He seems to be thinking it through, weighing on the words she just spoke to him.

"You know what?" he finally says, smiling softly. "I think some things are too strange and strong to be coincidences."

Rachel smiles back, her eyes shining like stars above her head.

"Like us?"

"Like us." he nods. "Maybe that's how it was meant to be. If not then - then another time. If not in Detroit, then somewhere else. But I'm sure of one thing - I would find you anytime and anywhere. Even without knowing I was looking for you at all."

He pulls her closer and places a long, loving kiss on her forehead. Rachel smiles and hugs him tighter, tucking her head under his chin. She tries to hide her tears from him, although her empathic ability tells her that he himself is close to crying.

"I love you, you know?" she whispers softly, her voice trembling like a leaf in the wind. In response, his strong arms surround her tighter, enclosing her in a cocoon of warmth and protection.

"I love you too, Rachel." she hears him murmur against her ear, his warm breath brushing her cheek. "To the moon and back."

And so they continue their stargazing, cuddled up to each other as tight as they can, while their souls dance underneath the starlight, together as one at last and happy that after such a long time of darkness and loneliness, they have finally found each other.

Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to thank you for all the support on this work, especially DarkAmberSky - your comments always make me smile and I appreciate them so much. EVERYONE GO CHECK THEIR WORK! It's an absolutely amazing story about Dick and Rachel and I am totally addicted to it! Check out "L'éveil du Corbeau" and it's sequel "Désillusion" - if you don't speak French just do what I did and use Google Translate 😁👍
> 
> I hope you liked it 😁 see you soon, time will tell what I might cook up for you next 🤗

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments as always appreciated. And if you love this duo as much as I do, check out my other fics 🤗 And I'm waiting for you on my Tumblr to say hi, like a princess in the tower. You can find me here @not-so-mundane-after-all-97!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed and see you next time!


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